


Follow Me Down

by scrapbullet



Category: Body of Lies (2008)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Comment Fic, Dominant Bottom, M/M, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the sort of revelation that makes Roger choke on his bourbon, coughing and hacking into his fist as the burn of the alcohol is amplified by going down the wrong pipe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Unsettledink asked for A/B/O fic. Tada?

Hani Pasha is an omega.

It’s the sort of revelation that makes Roger choke on his bourbon, coughing and hacking into his fist as the burn of the alcohol is amplified by going down the wrong pipe. Swallowing another mouthful to lubricate his throat Roger can only stare at the imposing man who, at this moment in time, is exuding pheromones so strong that Roger’s eyes are watering and his pants are too tight.

“I. Sir? Is this- Do you think this is wise?” Roger sets the now-empty glass down onto the table with an audible _thunk_. 

Hani merely cocks an eyebrow imperiously. Despite being hours away from his impending heat he is, as always, perfectly poised and perfectly dressed, legs crossed demurely one over the other as he pores over sheaves of paper. “My dear Mister Ferris,” he says, and his voice is like silk. “Do I look like an omega who needs coddling? Hm? I am quite entitled to have a heat every now and then.”

Roger blinks. Each and every movement sends a waft of dark, musky sweetness into the air, and, as an alpha, Roger finds himself beginning to lose control. His body is no longer his own; it’s a fucking fiddle that Hani can play at will. 

He bares his teeth in a wordless snarl. 

Hani glances at him through his lashes, and sips his black coffee.

Roger deflates, hands gripping the lip of the table-top. Blood thrums through his body in a quickening rhythm, leaving him feverish and light-headed. “You’re playing with me.”

For a time Hani says nothing, merely studying each piece of paper with great detail. When he does speak, it is with a heaviness to its undertone that has Roger quaking, ready to throw alpha instincts to the wind and prostrate himself before Hani on the cold, hard floor. 

“I have need of your knot, my dear; not your mouth. I suggest you hush, and undress before I do it for you.”

Roger scrambles to comply, the taste of Hani’s scent thick on the back of his tongue.


End file.
